Small Gestures
by LostinOblivion
Summary: Sequel to "Big Words". Morgan and Emily recover together at Morgan's house, and discover some difficult truths. Two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

_Sequel to _Big Words_. You can understand it without reading that one, but reading the first one will make this one more fun._

* * *

Garcia arrived at the hospital thirty minutes early, and smiled politely at the receptionist as she made her way to the elevator. This was the third day that she'd left her babies for a few hours and headed to Quantico to check in with the others and pick up some work. Garcia liked to be at home with them, where she could keep an eye on them and make sure they had everything they needed. And they couldn't hurt themselves again.

Mostly it was that.

Especially Emily, the woman was a damn magnetic for injuries.

The elevator dinged and Garcia climbed out onto the sub-basement level, where the physical therapy department was located. She flashed her Bureau credentials at the young man at the desk, and said sweetly. "I'm here to pick up some friends. You mind if I go in? The doc didn't mind earlier."

He shifted around in his seat and looked around, as if trying to find back-up. When none appeared, he seemed to deflate. "Sure, go right in."

She smiled sweetly again, and marched out of the waiting room and into the gym. There were several varieties of bikes lined up in front of the wall-sized window that opened to the carved out patio, and a variety of other machines scattered around. A set of stairs sat in the middle, the railing hung with colorful bands, resistance bands if Garcia remembered correctly. A rack of weights stood nearby, and beside that was a doorway that led to the warm-up/cool down area and the pool. Even in the short time she'd spent there, Garcia had become quite familiar with the layout.

She didn't see her dynamic duo anywhere else, so Garcia headed toward the noise coming from the warm-up/cool down room. She found three of center's staff talking and trying not to look like they were watching the trio in the center of the room.

Morgan was laying belly down on a table, one arm outstretched lifting a weight to the height of the table before slowly lowering it back down. Emily was sitting by the bed, her back to the door, and her cane propped against her chair. Her hands were both wrapped around his empty hand. Their physical therapist was on the other side of the bed, and both women appeared to be cheering Morgan on. Garcia couldn't see his face, but she could see the tension in his body.

"Is that hurting him, what he's doing?" Garcia asked the nearby cluster.

"It's for his shoulders. With his injury it's probably a little tender, but PT isn't meant to hurt." A young woman answered. "Are you lost?"

"Nope, this is where I'm supposed to be." She nodded to Morgan and Emily. "Do they normally have an audience?"

The oldest woman in the group grinned. "They're too damn cute not to watch."

The tech swallowed back her grin. "Oh? Why's that?"

"I have never seen two people more determined to see each other through PT, and I've been at this about twenty years."

The third woman nodded. "Any time one of them looks ready to give up, the other one is right there, coaching them through it."

"They share all those intense looks too, right Angie?" the youngest woman said.

"Especially her, every time he looks too tired to press on, she gets this look, like she's ready to move heaven and earth to help him."

"Well that's because he saved her life. Didn't you hear the story, Kat?" Angie asked.

Kat shook her head. "What story?"

Angie nudged the third woman. "You tell her what you told me, Trish."

Trish cleared her throat and spoke quietly. "Okay, I don't know how true this is because I got it secondhand from someone else. Apparently, she was hurt first, got shot in the leg, and then he carried her something crazy like five miles. Shelly said they were lost in the desert or something."

Kat looked dubious. "This is D.C. There are no deserts in D.C."

"Well they're CIA or something like that, they were traveling when it happened."

Kat was not convinced. "No one, even someone as in shape as that man, can carry a full grown woman five miles. He'd have killed himself just from exhaustion."

"I'm telling you that's what I was told! How else you do think he managed to bust up so much of his body?" Trish eyed her, one hand on her hip.

"It could have been two or three miles. Or that whole story could be bullshit to cover some embarrassing disaster they encountered while having wild sex."

Garcia couldn't stop herself, she snorted in laughter at that. "Oh, sorry I just…wow."

"Penelope?" She turned at the familiar voice and smiled at Derek, who seemed to have finished his exercise. Emily had turned toward her as well. "Hey Hotstuff, hey Kitten!"

Emily smiled. "Hi Garcia."

The tech took a step forward, but was stopped with a hand. Angie had stopped her. "So what's the story with them then?

Garcia was sorely tempted at that moment to have herself a little fun and confirm Kat's wild supposition, and she almost did. But one glance at her two friends smiling at each other, and she knew they weren't ready to go there yet. Instead, she smiled at the trio of gossipy women. "They're FBI, she was stabbed not shot, and it was some Podunk town in Pennsylvania, not the desert."

She went to move again, and then suddenly turned. "And it was six miles. That supreme hunk of Adonis carried her for six miles."

Finally Garcia made her way over to her two friends. Morgan already laying back on the table, bags of ice on either shoulder. Emily had one of his hands in between hers again, her fingers rhythmically rubbing over his skin.

"You're early," Morgan commented.

"You know how I worry about my babies. I guess I was a little too anxious to stay away."

"You sound like a mother dropping her kids at daycare for the first time," Emily said.

Garcia just grinned. She knew she was a mother hen, but she loved these two people far too much to do anything less than hover over them until they were back in perfect health.

* * *

"Okay, you guys go upstairs, I'm going to get started on dinner. I'll bring it up to Derek's room when it's ready." Garcia shooed them toward the stairs after they got in the door.

"Yes, mom," Emily said, looking at Derek and rolling her eyes.

He grinned. Penelope shot them both a look, before moving back to the kitchen. Emily switched her cane to her left hand, and braced herself on the railing before moving up the stairs slowly. Morgan was behind her, being extra careful moving his sore body and moving just as slowly.

Like they did most days, they headed toward Derek's bedroom. Being that they were stuck on medical leave together, they preferred having each other's company most of the time. And Derek's room had a TV. They were both too tired after PT, especially Derek, to move much, so they usually just camped out in his room watching TV or movies. Other times they played cards, or Emily would read out loud (the only thing Garcia let him hold was the TV remote or the newspaper comics), or they'd play chess or scrabble, the former of which Morgan was just learning.

They were at the end of their first week out of the hospital, and hadn't yet gotten sick of each other. Though it helped that JJ had smuggled them a few consult requests on Tuesday, so they felt like they were accomplishing something.

"So Princess, what are we watching tonight?" Derek asked, easing onto his side of the bed.

She shrugged, and then waved him to stay. "You lay back and relax, I'll dig around your movie collection and pick something."

"You know, you're almost as bad as Garcia sometimes." He shook his head, but wore an amused smirk.

Emily turned back toward him and scoffed. "I'm so not even close."

Morgan just chuckled. She went back to poking through his movie collection, and then something caught her eye. She pushed some Die Hard sequel out of the way, and then her eyes widened, and she chuckled. "Oh my god!"

"What?"

"Flight of the Navigator, Stand By Me, Explorers, Batteries Not Included…You've been holding out on me, Morgan. I didn't know you liked 80's movies."

"Yeah, I used to go to the movie theatre a lot when I was a kid. It was kind of an escape I guess…"

Emily turned around, and saw his head was angled away, eyes downcast. Her enthusiasm immediately deflated, and she carefully set the films back where they had been. She grabbed the edge of the TV cabinet, and used her cane to push herself up so she could walk over to him. Emily sat on the bed, and rested a hand on his leg. "I'm sorry."

He looked up startled. "What? No, you didn't do anything wrong."

"You had them tucked away for a reason. They remind you of Buford."

He shifted and winced. "Yeah, I guess. Most of those movies, they're goofy as hell, but they let me feel good for a little while, like I wasn't in my life."

He drifted off again, and she risked taking his hand. "They were innocent, made you feel safe. I used to like them too."

"Yeah, they were."

Emily rubbed his hand. "How about we see what's on TV?"

"Huh? You don't want to watch one?"

"Not if it's hard for you."

"No, it's okay. I watch them sometimes, usually after a really tough case or…" He cut himself off, and looked away again.

"Derek?"

"Uh, last time I watched those movies," he paused and swallowed. "It was after we buried you."

Emily ran her tongue over her top lip. "I'm so sorry you went through that."

And she would be sorry for the rest of her life.

"Not your fault. It wasn't your decision, and it kept you alive, so I can't really complain." He cleared his throat. "You know what, it's about time I make a good memory with those, let's watch one."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah…Do Explorers, I think that's my favorite."

She chuckled as she got up, grabbing her cane. "Building a spaceship with your buddies and flying into space and meeting aliens. What kid didn't dream of doing that?"

"You know, Reid is too young, but if we'd known Garcia back then, we may have had a chance."

"Did I just hear my name?"

Emily turned to see Garcia coming through the door with a class of red juice in each hand. "Do you think you could have helped us engineer a space ship back in the eighties?"

The tech froze. "Uh, well no, probably not. How did this come up in conversation?"

"We're going to watch a movie called Explorers," Morgan said.

Garcia gasped. "The eighties movie? Oh Derek Morgan, you've hid your fondness for cheesy 80's flick from me? You have disappointed me, mister." She walked over and handed him a glass. "It's cherry juice, it's good for you. Helps with inflammation."

She walked over to the other side of the bed, and set the other glass down. "Emily the Strange, I'm leaving your glass here so you don't have to carry it over. I want both of them empty before dinner."

"Yes, ma'am," they answered at once. Garcia waved a hand at them while rolling her eyes, and turned to go.

"Did you want to watch it with us, PG?" Emily called.

The tech turned back. "I actually can't, I promised Kevin that we'd have a date and some loving tonight, so once I get you two settled, I'm heading out to meet him."

"Does that mean you're going to let us take care of ourselves this weekend?"

She scoffed. "Of course not. Well, I'll be here tomorrow afternoon to feed you lunch and get dinner ready, and probably the same on Sunday."

"You know, Garcia, we will survive on our own, if you want a little time to yourself," Emily said.

"Nonsense. Besides, I have a surprise for you tomorrow, Emily."

"Uh oh." She didn't not like the sound of that, not coming from Garcia. Morgan laughed.

"Hush you," Garcia directed a pointed finger at him. Then she turned her finger on Emily. "And you, don't doubt me. You'll love it, I swear."

* * *

"Fuck! Goddamn it!"

Morgan stirred as he heard a hiss and a thud, and his partner's accompanied cursing. He yawned and pushed himself up in bed, stretching his shoulders to wake his body up a bit. Morgan slid out of bed and padded toward the door, pulling it open, peering into the dark, looking for his partner's pale skin. He found her by the stairs, rubbing her thigh and cursing her cane.

"You okay?" He asked.

Her head shot up. "Oh god, I'm sorry I woke you."

"It's okay. What are you doing up? Is your leg bothering you?"

She grimaced. "Our cheesy 80's sci-fi marathon was apparently so much fun that I forgot to take a dose before bed. I was going to get some water."

"There's some in the bathroom."

"Uh yeah, I need a glass though."

He chuckled. "Sorry, I meant there was bottles of water in the bathroom. Garcia texted me that she'd stocked my bathroom with bottled water and snacks, so we didn't have to go downstairs."

"I know I complain about her being a mother hen, but I do love and appreciate her," Emily said.

He smiled. "I know you do, Princess."

Emily frowned then. "Why the bathroom?"

He shrugged. "She said she wanted to keep everything streamlined, so we have fewer rooms to go to."

"Right…I'll just hobble in there then, and leave you to get back to bed." She took a step forward, but Morgan grabbed her.

"It's going to take a while for that to kick in, and I'm awake enough that I won't fall asleep for a while. Why don't you join me, we can talk or start another movie?" He knew she was in pain and that she wouldn't be sleeping until her meds kicked in, and he didn't want to think about her sitting in the dark in pain all by herself.

"You really don't mind keeping me company?"

He scoffed. "Yeah, cause you're such a miserable person to be around," he said. "Grab your water, I'll fish out a movie. And grab some snacks while you're in there."

Morgan headed back into his bedroom, and slowly sunk toward the ground in front of his film collection. He snaked a hand to the back row, and grabbed a movie. Gremlins. That would work.

By the time he'd shoved the movie in the player and climbed back into bed, he was feeling sore. He grabbed the orange prescription bottle on his nightstand, and shook a pill out, swallowing it with a large gulp of water. When the doctor had given him the prescription for Ibuprofen, he'd been less than convinced it would help. It did some, at least it took the edge off. His whole body still ached though.

Emily appeared at the door, bottle of water tucked under one arm, snacks in her hand, and leaning heavily on her cane. It made her footfalls sound unfamiliar to him. After this many years, he knew the sound of her walk, but now that sound had changed. A soft step, almost a shuffle, and then the second step was drowned out with the firm thud of the cane landing.

"The day I'm cleared, I'm going to take your power saw and cut this damn thing into teeny tiny pieces." Emily grumbled as she walked.

"Hey now, that thing's metal, it could wreck my blade."

She looked up at him. "It's aluminum. And I will gladly replace your blade for a chance to destroy this cane."

"It get that it's annoying, but really, Emily? A saw?" He caught her bottle of water and the snacks, which turned out to be trail mix and some something he couldn't identify.

"It isn't just that it's annoying."

"Oh, then what is it?"

He watched her press her lips together, and her tongue flick out over her top lip. "It's…I feel like an invalid. I can't just walk, I have to hobble around like an old woman. I feel pathetic. And people stare. I'm damn tired of people staring. I haven't felt this self-conscious since I was 15 and awkward."

"You aren't pathetic. You are a badass FBI woman who took a knife in the thigh while tangling with a serial killer. All these idiots that are forgetting their manners and staring at you, they aren't worth your time or mental energies."

"It doesn't change the fact that I feel like jumping out of my skin when they stare."

Morgan sighed. "Well tomorrow is the weekend. We can just hang-out here, we don't even have to go to PT. Just you and me, no obnoxious people staring." He squeezed her hand.

She smiled. "As much as I hate being confined, that does sound nice."

"Well, if you start going crazy being stuck here, I'll have a shirt printed up for you that says, 'I caught a serial killer and all I got was a knife in the thigh and this lousy t-shirt'."

She chuckled. "Then we have to get you a matching one. Uh, how about, "I caught a serial killer and saved my partner's life, and all I got was fucked up joints and this lousy t-shirt."

"That sounds a bit long for a t-shirt." He watched her expression change then. One that was filled with gratitude and guilt. Morgan shook his head. "No, don't you give me that look."

"I owe you my life, and frankly, my sanity over the last week. I'd have been going crazy being stuck in bed by myself."

"Emily Prentiss, I am going to say this once, and then we are not having this conversation again." He cleared his throat. "The damage to my body is not your fault. I chose to carry you instead of leave you there and run for help, you had no say in the matter. Would I have done things differently? Yeah, maybe. But not because of the damage to my body. I don't remember the last hour or so of carrying you, not clearly or well. What I do remember is the blinding panic I felt when you didn't answer me. Do you have any idea how close you came to dying? That's my fault. If I'd left you and run for help like you said, you'd never have gotten that close. You should be pissed at me, not feel guilty."

Emily pressed her lips together, and her tongue flicked out around her mouth. "You're right. It wasn't the best solution to the problem. But it was the solution you felt you had to chose, because of my actions a year ago."

"You didn't chose to fake your death and not let us in on it."

"But I did chose to go after Doyle. I chose to be a spy. I chose to accept the assignment to Interpol, and I chose to accept the UC assignment with Doyle. Without any one of those choices, Hotch and JJ wouldn't have had to fake my death, and you wouldn't have been put through that."

"Yeah," he nodded, "You chose to do those things, just like I chose to carry you."

She sighed. "Yes, but I – " Emily stopped and shook her head. "We could go around in circles all night. How about we just agree that no one is at fault for your injuries or mine except the asshole that stabbed me in the thigh?"

He chuckled. "I can live with that, just keep that look off your face."

"What look?"

"That guilty look. I've been seeing it all damn year, and I can't take it anymore."

"I do not wear a guilty look." She looked away and cracked open her water.

Morgan chuckled. "Yes, you do."

They were silent several minutes while Morgan fought to open the unidentifiable package, and Emily swallowed her pill. He'd just managed to get the package open when Emily cleared her throat. He looked up at her.

"This conversation, why you did what you did, that is going to have repercussions for our partnership."

He froze. "Yeah, I know."

"We should talk about that."

Morgan could feel her eyes on him like a physical presence. "Yeah, we should…but not tonight." He smiled. "Tonight, I just want to sit here, eat a bunch of weird health food, and watch Gremlins with you."

"Morgan…have you talked to anybody about it? About what you went through?"

"Have you?" He snapped, then turned quickly away, shaking his head at himself.

"What do you mean? I don't need to see anyone. I dealt with it."

He snorted. "Yeah, sure you did. You won't let yourself fall asleep on the jet anymore, because when you do you sleep, you have nightmares. You don't want us to know about them."

"I saw the Bureau shrink, she gave me a clean bill of mental health."

"She's a hack."

Emily tensed and threw down the twin to his unidentifiable snack, still unopened. "Maybe I am still dealing, but no shrink can help me at this point. I just have to work through it myself. But a shrink may be able to help you."

He scoffed. "Really? And how is a shrink going to help me? Can she magically make it less painful to imagine you dying?"

"Well no, of course not, but she could help you deal with it…otherwise, Derek, it isn't safe for us or anyone else for us to still be partners."

He wanted to snap at her, he wanted to hit a wall, but he knew she was right. It wasn't safe for them to be in the field together if he was more focused on keeping her safe than anything else. But still…"We did okay before this."

"We did." She nodded. "But you as much as admitted that your judgment was compromised."

"If I agree to see a shrink, can we forget this for now?"

"I don't want to force you to see a shrink, Morgan."

He nodded. "I'm not ready to give up the best partner I've ever had. I'll go and you and me, we'll be alright."

"Good," she said. "Neither am I."

They both settled back, and Emily resumed trying to open her snack. Morgan took a bite of his, some sort of chewy, red stuff. "Emily?"

"Yeah?" She looked over, having just torn open the packet.

"What the hell are we eating?"

* * *

Penelope Garcia hummed to herself as she pushed open Derek's front door, and pulled her key out of the lock. It was only about eleven, but she wanted to get dinner started before she made lunch. A theatre in D.C. was playing The Labyrinth and Kevin was itching to go. Garcia was excited to, but first she needed to tend to her injured friends, whether they said they needed it or not.

Frankly, they'd been more cooperative than she'd anticipated. Penelope was fairly certain that she could attribute that a large extent to the fact that they were together, and able to fuss and worry over each other. Considering how little they both liked mothering, it was kind of hilarious to watch them try to surreptitiously mother each other. She knew that Emily was feeling guilty about Derek's injuries, and that Derek still had some issues regarding her safety, but it was still entertaining nonetheless.

Garcia set Emily's surprise on the kitchen table, and surveyed the kitchen. She was surprised that the coffeemaker hadn't been started yet, especially since she'd never known either of them to sleep this late, except after a long case. It made her wonder how many movies they'd watched before going to bed. Shrugging Garcia started the coffeemaker, and then poured two glasses of cherry juice and headed upstairs.

She went to the guest bedroom first, and was surprised to find it empty. Garcia had never, ever seen either of them skip coffee in the morning. At least since Emily had gotten back on caffeine (and that break had been pretty short-lived). Frowning, Penelope turned back toward the hall and headed toward the master bedroom. There she found them both.

Morgan was on his back, the position he was forced to sleep in so he didn't put pressure on either of his shoulder joints. Emily was curled on her right side, facing him. They weren't touching, but they weren't really keeping their distance either. Garcia quietly set down the glasses of juice, and made her way back downstairs, though not before stopping to take a picture with her cell phone.

She texted it to JJ with a short message: _I told you so!_

In Derek's kitchen, Garcia turned a circle, one hand on her hip, contemplating what to make for lunch. Clearly they hadn't even had breakfast yet. Maybe she'd do a breakfast for lunch day…

* * *

The ache began as something almost dull. She burrowed further into her pillow, eyes still shut and tried to ignore it. It began to get worse. Whether it was due to the drug wearing off or her waking up, Emily didn't know. All she knew was pain, and lots of it. For about the umpteenth time over the last couple weeks she cursed the unsub that had stabbed her.

Then she felt movement beside her, and yanked her eyes open. Morgan was twisting around beside her, trying to get comfortable on his back. She pushed herself up a bit, and glanced at the TV. The menu for Gremlins flickered across the screen, silent, but still alive. She remembered starting to dose off, but she didn't remember curling up under the covers in Morgan's bed.

It was one thing to share a room or even a bed on cases, it was an entirely different sort of thing to sleep in his bed, in his home, beside him. It was crossing a line, a very big, thick black line that once traversed may mean the death of their partnership.

Shit.

Emily pushed herself up, and started to shift her body to face the side of the bed. She couldn't stifle the whimper of pain the movement caused. She dug her teeth into her lip, and attempted to proceed when a voice stopped her.

"Prentiss?"

Emily winced, then plastered on a smirk as she turned to him. "You address all the ladies that wake up in your bed by their last names?"

Morgan grinned. "Only the ones that still have their clothes on."

She smiled and they lapsed into a long silence that was neither comfortable nor entirely uncomfortable. Emily cleared her throat. "Alright, I need to go brush my teeth. It tastes like something died in my mouth."

Her companion cringed and his jaw began to move as he seemed to take notice of his own mouth. "Yeah, I'm after you."

Emily nodded and snagged her cane. She failed to mask another whimper as she pushed herself to a standing position. Before he could even speak, she waved a hand behind herself at Morgan. The profiler limped her way to the bathroom, cursing colorfully in her head at the pain and the cane.

Then she ran into Garcia. Fuck.

"Oh, Good Morning, sleepyhead. You and Derek fall asleep watching movies?" The tech greeted.

"Huh? Oh yeah, we did…How was your date with Kevin?"

Garcia grinned. "X-rated, just like all the good ones."

Emily smiled. "Glad it went well then."

The tech practically purred. "Yep, Kevin is very good with all the lady parts."

She chuckled and made her way into the bathroom, sighing with relief that Garcia had, for once, not jumped to any conclusions upon catching her coming out of Morgan's bedroom. By the time she made it to the sink, her thigh was throbbing.

Emily's mouth was full of toothbrush and foam when Garcia appeared again.

"Hey sweetie, here's a pill," she grabbed one of the bottles of water. "And some water. Take it, and go relax with Derek a bit. When you're feeling up to it, you guys cn come down and eat, and I'll give you your surprise. Give me about twenty minutes though, I have some cooking to finish and I have to let Clooney out back."

The profiler could only nod.

* * *

_So many notes for this one. First, this one has been really hard for me to write, because there is little plot, and I don't write light-on-plot stories very well. It also took a few odd turns that I wasn't suspecting. My friend ditzieblonde asked to see Morgan and Emily's recovery, so this story is for her.  
_

_Second thing, between writing _Big Words_ and this story, I fell and sprained my foot (yes foot, not ankle, apparently it's possible), so initial image I had in my head for this story (Emily hobbling around, snarking and cursing her cane, her injury and the world) that became me. It sucked. But this story in my head let me laugh when I wanted to throw my cane out the window and say fuckall to everything. I'm sure I vented through her a bit, hopefully it's still in character. :)_

_Third thing, cheesy 80's sci-fi flicks are awesome._

_Thanks for reading, and reviews are always welcome!_


	2. Chapter 2

Morgan stretched and grunted as he and Emily slowly worked their way downstairs. Both changed, showered, and feeling a great deal less pain thanks to modern medicine. He was actually really hungry and instantly thankful to his funky friend for being his personal nursemaid and chef. He smelled eggs, and…bacon. Oh god, he smelled bacon. The trip down the stairs was well worth it for bacon.

"Bacon," Emily murmured.

"Babygirl knows just what I love." He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at her. Prentiss rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips turned up in a smile.

"Hi!" Garcia greeted them jovially. She waved Emily toward her urgently. "Come see what I brought you!"

Emily slowly made her way over as Garcia bent over and picked up a small cat carrier, which she sat on the coffee table.

"Sergio," Emily said, her whole face seeming to light up. She walked over and stuck a finger inside the cage. He meowed at her. "Hey Buddy, I've missed you."

"I figured you did. I didn't want to let him out without asking Derek first though." She turned toward him, as did Emily. The brunette wore a big smile and the most hopeful expression on her face, Morgan couldn't say no.

He smiled. "Go for it."

The instant joy on Emily's face was well worth the extra pet fur on his furniture.

Seconds out of the carrier, Sergio was rubbing his head against Emily's hands and purring like a motorboat. Morgan watched with great amusement as his partner began speaking Italian at him. Sergio occasionally meowed and sought out her hands for continued affection.

"Does he actually understand Italian?" He asked.

Emily shrugged. "He seems to prefer it. I think he must have had Italian owners before he ended up at the shelter, that's why I named him Sergio."

Garcia put a hand on his bicep. "You should have seen it when Emily came to pick him up after she came back to D.C. Sergio was all cautious until she spoke Italian and then he ran right to her."

"Yet he comes to you when you speak English," Emily said.

Morgan chuckled. "It figures you'd have a bilingual cat. And one with good taste in women." He scratched the cat's head.

Emily smiled and turned to Garcia. "He's been okay for you?"

"We had words the other day when he decided to take a nap in my clean laundry, but otherwise, he's been a doll as always."

"Was it fresh from the dryer?" She asked. The tech nodded. Emily sighed. "Warm laundry is his favorite thing." She turned to the cat. "Maybe I should get you a heated blanket, save us both the trouble of trying to get fur off our clothing."

Garcia smiled. "Well, brunch is ready, so you too should eat before it gets cold. Sergio will be here for a while, and you need to finish before Reid gets here."

"Reid's coming over?" He asked.

"Yep. Boy genius is going to hang out with Emily while you and I go to a movie. I figured you guys might need a break from each other."

Morgan wanted to argue against that, but considering they woke up in the same bed this morning, a little distance would probably be good for them. Especially considering the conversation they'd had last night, and the conclusion that he was so protective of her that being partners may no longer be good for them. He wished he could say that he could control himself, but he knew the minute her life was threatened again, he'd do anything and everything, no matter how illogical or insane to save her.

Yep, distance was good.

* * *

Garcia leaned close to Morgan as they exited the theatre, the smell of butter-soaked popcorn quickly replaced with that of the cooling autumn air. She loved autumn, when the trees turned a kaleidoscope of colors and the school buses began to run again. It always felt like new beginnings to her, and more importantly, it meant that Christmas was on its way, and Penelope Garcia loved Christmas. A holiday filled with sweets and gifts, and good cheer and merry-making was made for her.

"Hang a left," She instructed Derek.

He shot her a look full of raised and curious eyebrows, but did as she asked. With a gentle tug, Garcia directed him further down the block, slowing as they came to a small bakery.

"You want sweets?" He asked.

"They have gourmet cocoa, and I'm in the mood." She did not mention the fact that he clearly needed to talk, which was really her impetus for coming.

He'd been quiet since they left for the movie. Not silent, but quieter than usual, and at first Garcia was ready to chalk it up to the meds, but he'd stayed awake though the whole movie though it wasn't his usual fair. Something else was clearly going on.

Derek grabbed a menu, and held it open for her to read, and he angled head so he could read too. After a minute, he gave a little snort. "You weren't kidding about the gourmet part."

She smiled. "It's delicious, trust me."

"I always do, mama." He grinned.

Garcia approached the counter. "Hello, I would like a Red Velvet Hot Cocoa, and my friend here will have a…"

Derek cleared his throat. "Uh, can I get a Mexican Hot Cocoa, the dark chocolate kind?"

The cashier took their money, and smiled. "Please have a seat."

Garcia waited for him to settle in his seat. "So hot stuff, what's on your mind?"

"Sorry?" He said, face showing only surprise.

"You're being too quiet, Derek. I know you, what's going on?"

He shrugged. "Just tired I guess."

She let it go as they're cocoa arrived, and watched him as he studied the bowl-sized cup. "You know the first time Emily came here with me, that's the kind she ordered."

"Oh yeah," he said absently. He was holding the mug, turning it around as if trying to locate the best place to drink from.

"Uh huh. The look on her face when she first tasted it, I thought she was going to orgasm right there on the spot." Garcia took a sip just as Morgan began to choke on his first sip.

He swallowed and wiped himself off carefully, before focusing on her. "What?"

"She liked it, a lot."

"Yeah, I got that."

Penelope sighed. "You guys didn't fight, did you?"

"What?" He gaped. "No, of course not."

"Then what's going on, Derek?"

He shifted in his seat and focused on his cocoa. Garcia was about to ask again, but he inhaled sharply. "I guess I'm just realizing some things is all…and they aren't things I particularly want to realize, or think about, or talk about."

"Does what you're realizing have anything to do with you and Emily waking up in the same bed this morning?"

He glanced at her, but didn't question her knowledge of that. "Kind of, but not really. We fell asleep watching Gremlins, that's it."

"Okay, I'll stop prying. Just Derek," she rested her hand on top of his, "whatever you're feeling right now, let yourself feel it. Feelings like that don't come around very often."

He nodded, but didn't respond, so Garcia made a point to fill the remainder of their time with light chatter. After finishing their cocoas they headed back to Derek's, which was good, because he was pretty beat. Toward the end of the drive she saw him rest his head on the window out of the corner of her eye, and patted his leg. "How are your muscles feeling?"

"They've been better, but the doctor said that light exercise was good, so this was perfect." He smiled, reassuring her.

She pulled "How about you lay down for a bit when we get inside?"

"Yeah, maybe."

Inside they found Reid flipping through a book, and Emily knocked out on the sofa, her legs stretched out, and Sergio curled up on her belly.

"Is she okay?" Derek asked.

"Her leg started to bother her thirty-four minutes ago. She took a pill and laid down, and fell asleep twenty-seven minutes ago."

"Oh well, thank you for being uber-specific as always, Dr. Reid," she said, the she turned to Derek. "Go lay down, hot stuff. I'll get started on dinner, and check on you before I go, okay?"

He pulled his eyes off Emily, and nodded at her. "Thanks, babygirl," he said, kissing her head, and then headed for the stairs, but his eyes kept drifting back to Emily.

"Alright, boy wonder, come help me in the kitchen."

Reid did as told, marking his place in the book, and following after her. Once inside the kitchen, Garcia turned and figuratively pounced on him. "What did Emily say while we were gone?"

Reid leaned back, hands up defensively. "About what?"

"About Derek, of course."

The genius frowned deeply. "We didn't really talk about Morgan."

"Then what did you talk about?" She demanded, hands on her hips. They spent the afternoon playing chess, they had to have talked during that time.

"Chess obviously. And mostly our last case. And uh, Batman."

"Batman?"

"Yes, Batman is a fascinating character, psychologically speaking. His entire being is shaped around the murder of his parents when he was a child, and – "

"Oh god, Spence, please don't ruin Batman for me," she pled holding up a hand.

He frowned again. "Why would that ruin Batman?"

* * *

Emily woke-up to the sound of a silent house. She glanced at the chair to find Reid gone, and then looked at her watch. She'd slept for almost four hours. God, no wonder she felt hungry. The profiler yawned and grabbed her cane, clunking her way into the kitchen. There was a note from Garcia on the oven. It was written on her homemade purple butterfly notepad, directing them on how to properly cook the Mexican casserole she'd left them. The dish was already in the oven, so Emily cranked the oven to the instructed heat setting, and set the timer.

She lowered herself into one of the chairs at the kitchen table, and picked up the magazine that had come in Morgan's mail. It was a wildlife magazine with a pair of elephants on the cover. They were an endangered species and the two on the cover were part of a colony that was being protected by zoologists in Africa.

"Hey." She started and turned abruptly to the voice.

"Hi," she said.

Morgan slid into a chair. "What are you reading?"

"Something about elephants." She showed him the cover.

"I gave them money a few months ago, so now they send me magazines I don't have the time to read."

She smirked. "Derek Morgan, hero to all of elephant-kind."

He chuckled. "What did Garcia leave us for dinner?"

"Some sort of Mexican casserole."

He nodded. "I hope it's extra spicy."

"Me too." She smiled. "I went on an assignment with Clyde once in…well, it was somewhere in Europe where you wouldn't think to find a Mexican restaurant. But there was one there, and we got lunch there one day, and it was burn-your-mouth-off spicy, but really, really good."

"You and Clyde, how long were you partners?"

Emily bit her lip. The team hadn't asked her much about her CIA or Interpol time, and she'd been very grateful for that. She was so used hiding her past and pretending it didn't exist, it was hard to switch tracks. She swallowed. "I was CIA for five years, all as a NOC, before they pulled me into Interpol. That was in uh…1999 I think, and Clyde and I were partnered until I left in 2006, so not quite seven years."

"Longer than us." His eyes drifted toward the ground, but only for seconds. "You were close?"

"Yeah, we were very close. We found our way in and out of a lot of nasty situations, and saved each others lives more than once." Emily had dozens of stories about times when they'd _almost_ died. The team had no idea that the BAU was practically partial retirement for her. She preferred to keep it that way, but she knew eventually one of them would ask, and she wouldn't lie. She couldn't afford anymore lies.

"You never mentioned him. In five years, you never mentioned Easter, your Interpol team or the CIA. Why was that?"

She inhaled. "I was really messed up after finishing my last assignment. I told Clyde and Sean that I was done, that I was getting out, and going to try to work for the BAU at the FBI. They didn't argue. A week later, Clyde called and offered me a fabricated FBI history, and a way in through an AD that owed him a favor. I jumped on it. I wanted to forget all of it, and start fresh. I wanted to be someone else for a while, someone without all my crap." Emily pressed her lips together. "And it was easy. It was so easy to be the girl next door that had never been in the field."

"Would you have ever told us, you know if Doyle hadn't escaped?"

"Honestly? No, not if I could help it."

Morgan inhaled deeply and took her hand in both of his. "I will call the Bureau shrink tomorrow and get a referral for a private therapist." He sighed. "But, I'm also going to ask Hotch to partner me with JJ when I get back into the field."

Emily frowned and yanked her hand back. "What, because I would have chosen not to tell you about my past?"

"Actually, one has nothing to do with the other. Quizzing you on you past just gave me a chance to wrap my tongue around what I need to say."

"Which is?"

"That we were being unrealistic. That we can never go back to where we were before you died. That I will never be able to act rational when you're in danger."

Her heart was thudding and her palms were sweating, but Emily brushed it all off. "Right, like you wouldn't be protective of JJ too?"

He nodded. "I would be protective of anyone on the team, but not like I am of you. I don't…I don't love them the way I love you."

When she shook her head, it was slow, but slightly disorienting going against the percussion of her pulse inside her ears. "Don't do this, Derek."

"It needs to be done, Em. One of us needs to say what's been hanging in the air between us since you got back, what we've been tap dancing around for years." He said it flatly, like he didn't have a single doubt that she felt the same way. Part of her was relieved.

She didn't have to deny it.

She didn't have to try to convince him that she didn't love him. So, she didn't.

"This isn't a good idea," she said instead.

He chuckled. "I think it would be a worse one to continue to ignore it."

"So, we just trade our partnership and friendship for a romance that may or may not work?"

"Do you want this to work?"

She was slightly taken aback, but not for long. Emily took his hand in hers, and met his eyes. "Yes, of course I do."

"Okay. Then we'll make it work."

"I would love to have your confidence." She sighed. "So we start with getting new partners…and telling Hotch."

"We may as well just tell the whole team. They'll want to know why we're switching partners."

She nodded. "We should start without secrets."

"So…text Garcia and have her rope everyone into coming over tomorrow for dinner?"

"Yes, but tell her that we'll handle dinner, or she'll try to cook for all of us." It was insane, to believe they wouldn't screw it up, to believe after everything that it could actually work, and to risk everything they had together. But Emily couldn't bring herself to say no to him.

* * *

When the oven timer dinged, alerting them that their dinner was done, he jumped slightly. So did Emily, and they broke hand contact quickly, as if afraid they'd be caught in the midst of PDA. After shaking it off, Derek waved Emily back into her seat, and turned off the oven. He grabbed the oven mitts he didn't know he owned, and opened the door, his stomach growling at the sizzling of the cheese.

"Oh god, that smells good," Emily said.

Morgan grinned as he carefully removed it from the oven, and set the glass casserole dish on the pot holders that had been set out. "Should probably let it cool."

"Yeah…I'll set the table."

He watched her hobble through his kitchen with her cane, gathering plates first with one hand and setting them on the table, and then backtracking for forks and napkins. He grabbed glasses and filled them with more cherry juice, per Garcia's explicit instructions, before setting them on the table. When Emily finished with the settings, she turned to him, and Morgan froze. They were mere inches apart, and there was only one thing on his mind.

He cupped her head, sliding his fingers through her hair, and moved closer to her. Emily looked up, her mouth sliding open wordlessly, and her eyes speeding around searching his. Derek leaned toward her, pressing his lips feather-light against hers. When she increased the pressure ever so slightly, he took the invitation and wrapped his free arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his body.

Her lips slid soft against his, her taste settling in his mouth, and it was intoxicating. His eyes fluttered shut, and the sounds and smells of the world began to fade to white noise. It wasn't a demanding kiss, rather it was almost nervous. But it still took his breath away, and taxed his body of strength. When they pulled away from each other, Emily's eyes were still shut, but fluttering open.

"I'm going to chalk it up to your skill, and not my current sorry state that one kiss leaves me exhausted even after a four hour nap," she said.

"I'm going to pretend that's true, and that I'm not exhausted too."

Emily grinned at him, and slid into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. "I say we eat and then go upstairs and collapse in front of more 80's sci-fi."

"Sounds good. I haven't seen _Batteries Not Included_ in a while." The patter of little feet drew his attention to the floor.

Sergio looked up at them and meowed.

"You work on dinner, and I'll try and find his food," Emily said.

Morgan nodded and grabbed a rubber spatula and a plate, and spooned food out. He could hearing Sergio meowing and following Emily around as she got his dinner ready. It felt incredibly domestic, and he didn't dislike it.

"Where's Clooney's food?" she asked.

"Cabinet next to the sink." He turned from the food to make sure she found the Tupperware of dog food, and then went back to his task. He smiled at the sound of the backdoor opening and an enthusiastic Clooney bounding inside and heading straight for his dish.

He was filling the second dish with casserole when arms suddenly slid around his waist, and Emily pressed her body up against his. He smiled until her hand slid up his t-shirt, then his mouth fell slightly open and he abruptly stopped what he was doing. Her hand settled along his abs, her fingers tracing his six pack.

"Damn…" She said.

He swallowed. "Find something you like, princess?"

Her warm breath tickled his ear as she got very close. "I've wanted to do this since the first time I saw you with your shirt off. And you did not disappoint, Derek."

"Glad to hear it." He couldn't even remember when the first time was that he'd been shirtless in front of her. Not that he made a habit of it or anything.

Emily pulled away and Derek was both disappointed and grateful. They were in no shape for anything more than heavy petting right now, and if she'd kept that up, he'd have said to hell with their injuries and had sex right there on his sofa in front of the cat and dog.

She cleared her throat. "This is going to be a long couple weeks until we're both healed."

He snorted. "Oh yeah."

* * *

The next night they waited nervously for the team to arrive. A smorgasbord of Chinese food was laid out on the table with paper plates and chopsticks (forks for Reid and Will) waiting to be devoured. They'd both timed their meds so they were on the last few hours of them, and would be able to stay awake and as alert as possible while the team was around. Hopefully the pills would last long enough to get through dinner and discussion, and then they could kick everyone out and swallow more pills.

Emily was almost glad for PT tomorrow. It tended to add to her pain, but it relieved some for Morgan and she could tell he was feeling sore all over.

A key in the lock told them that Garcia was first, undoubtedly with Kevin in tow. They shared a last quick peck before the door flew open.

"Hello my darlings! Oh, I smell Kung Pao Chicken." The tech's head jutted back and forth following the scent.

"Do you really think I'd forget your favorite Baby girl?"

"My dark knight? Never." She smiled. "Are we first?"

"Yep." As soon as that one word was out of Morgan's mouth, there was a knock at the door.

Emily began to hobble toward it, but Kevin gestured her to sit with a hand, and went to answer it himself. She gave him a smile of thanks. Rossi came in smiling and greeting them in Italian. Emily responded in the same, to the annoyance of their friends.

After that, the others came quickly, all greeting Emily and Derek enthusiastically, happy that they were healing well. They dished up food and sat around Morgan's living room, taking turns swatting at Clooney and Sergio when they tried begging for food.

"Sergio, come here. Don't bother JJ," Emily admonished the cat in Italian and waved him to join her on the love seat. Derek had Clooney sitting in front of him, looking up at him with sad, pathetic eyes.

Sergio was not so easily corralled. Though he did come when he saw that she had food on her plate. He rubbed against her legs, purring loudly, and jumped up on an arm rest. Emily tried her best to offer him a pointed look and speak sternly, still in Italian. "If you sit there and behave I'll give you a piece of sweet and sour chicken, okay?"

Sergio cocked his head and swished his tail, eyes parked firmly on her plate. Emily sighed.

"So, the cat and dog get along okay?" JJ asked.

"Clooney is afraid of the cat…chickenshit," Morgan muttered, glancing at the dog.

"So, did you guys have a purpose for gathering us for dinner, or are you already missing all of us?" Rossi asked, seeing right through them.

Emily glanced at Derek and shot him a small smile before turning to Rossi. "Actually, we've spent the last couple days discussing our plans for when we return to work and the field, and we thought you should all know." She swallowed. "Hotch, when we get back to work, we'll both be requesting new partners."

The room plunged into a cold silence as their friends shot alarmed looks at one another. Emily fought the urge to squirm and could feel Morgan tense up beside her.

Hotch broke the silence. "May I ask what brought you two to this decision?"

Morgan cleared his throat. "In Pennsylvania, when Prentiss got hurt…I couldn't think clearly. She very nearly bled to death, because I couldn't leave her and run to town for help." He stopped and turned away from the group. Emily could see the moisture in his eyes.

She inhaled. "With recent events, and slightly less recent events, we can't go back to where we were before the last year and some happened. We can't be partners like we were, so we've decided it would be best for everyone if we were no longer partners."

"That decision led to another one," Morgan added. Emily watched him frown and try to think of a way to explain it.

She jumped in. "We're tired of tap dancing."

"But you guys don't tap dance," Reid said, face twisted in confusion.

"Figurative tap dancing, kid," Morgan said.

"Yeah, we can no longer be effective together as partners, because we no longer have the relationship of partners or even friends."

"For being tired of tap dancing, you still do an awful lot of it," Hotch told her.

"We care about each other too much to just be friends." Morgan released a breath and his shoulders relaxed as if a huge burden had just come off his shoulders.

Emily bit her lip. "And we realize that this puts you in an awkward position, Hotch, and the rest of you as well. We know at some point one of us will have to transfer out of the team, but uh, this is all very new, and we're not really ready to think about that yet."

Garcia was pressing her lips together and glancing at Hotch as if waiting for him to give his blessing so she could go ahead and burst. He sat quietly for the longest two minutes of Emily's life, his hands still holding his forgotten bowl of food. When he opened his mouth, the air in the room seemed to change, the tension thickening.

"As your friend, I'm very happy for both of you." He paused. "However, as Unit Chief of the BAU, this does put me in a difficult position. While Bureau policy is vague on these matters, it makes clear that it frowns on and discourages them. That said, as long as the rest of the team is comfortable with the situation, I'm willing to try it your way for now." He turned, and looked toward the rest of the team with a question in his eyes.

Rossi spoke first, shrugging his shoulders and smirking. "I'm the last person that should be uncomfortable with this." He raised empty hands. "L'amore domina senza regole."

"That another quote from Dante?" JJ asked, smirking.

"No," he said, pointedly. He turned and gestured to Emily.

"Love rules without rules," she translated. "Proverb, right?"

"Yeah, and an old one."

Hotch cleared his throat. "And the rest of you?"

"Hells yeah," Garcia said. "I'm thrilled."

JJ and Reid both settled for nodding in agreement. Hotch turned to them again. "In that case, Morgan, you'll be partnered with JJ, and Prentiss, you'll be partnered with Rossi the bulk of the time."

She nodded releasing a breath, and reaching out and allowing her hand to intertwine with Morgan's. Hotch offered them a pointed look. "But, I do encourage you both to get comfortable with the idea of one of you transferring."

Emily nodded again, not happy with the thought, but knowing realistically that he was right.

"Are we all done with the serious stuff then?" Garcia asked, glancing around. When no one responded, she squealed, ringing her hands. "I'm so happy for you guys!"

* * *

That night after they'd shooed the team out, and assured Garcia that they had ample leftovers for tomorrow (so she was free to go to work), Morgan and Prentiss headed back upstairs to his bedroom. He stopped to dig into his movie collection, and switched out the DVDs in the player, before joining her on the bed.

"That could have gone much worse," she said.

He nodded. "Yeah, we lucked out with the team, and even Hotch. I thought for sure that he'd kill us."

Emily shook her head. "He knew what was coming, I could see it in his eyes. He's been expecting it."

"You could see it in his eyes? Please tell me you're not buying into all the Hollywood hype about profilers, Prentiss."

"You couldn't? There was no sign of surprise registering on his face – "

"It's Hotch, nothing registers on his face."

She cocked her head to the side. "Funny. As I was saying, his eyes remained flat, not a single wrinkle appeared on his forehead or the sides of his mouth, he didn't hesitate when he spoke, his tone when speaking remained even, and his blink rate was steady. Those are the signs of a man who knew what he was getting into."

Morgan chuckled and held up his hands. "I stand corrected, princess."

"Damn right, you do." She paused. "And new system. We use last names when on the job, and first names when off."

"That makes sense." He paused. "So this whole mess, isn't wasn't such a bad thing then."

Emily chuckled. "Well, I guess it did give us a kick in the ass."

"I would have preferred to get that kick in a less dire way."

"Well, we're both okay now, or at least on our way to being as good as new, as they say."

He glanced down, too uncomfortable to meet her eyes. "I'm going to miss you though, you know…"

"What? In the field?" She asked. Morgan nodded. Emily sighed. "Yeah, I know. I love Rossi, but it won't be the same."

"Yeah, JJ's great," he agreed, "But you and me together, we're something else."

"It's better this way though, we can be more objective with Rossi and JJ than we can with each other."

Derek smiled. He knew she was right, but that didn't stop him from wanting her as his partner in the BAU and in life. He knew he was a lucky man to have her as just one, but he hated having to pick. He sighed and picked up her hand, bringing it to her lips.

Emily squeezed his hand. "So what are we watching?"

"_Flight of the Navigator_. But I think we're going to run out soon, I don't have many left."

She shrugged. "I have some at my apartment, we can take a drive over there tomorrow."

"Sounds good. Let's get this movie started then." He shimmied closer to her, so their hips were pressed together, and threaded his fingers through hers as the credits of the movie began to roll.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Emily's lips turn-up in a soft smile.

* * *

_And that's the second half. Thank you all very, very much for the reviews on the first chapter. My next story may not be posted for a bit, so hopefully this will hold you all for a while. :)_


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